


Wrong place, wrong time

by The_Arkadian



Category: Romeo And Juliet - Shakespeare, Rómeó és Júlia (Színház)
Genre: Angst, Blood and Gore, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-17
Updated: 2015-07-17
Packaged: 2018-04-09 20:51:51
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 478
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4363793
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Arkadian/pseuds/The_Arkadian
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for a prompt by Red_Mercutio:<br/>Platonic Mercutio and Valentine, "You need to wake up because I can’t do this without you” and "I almost lost you".</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wrong place, wrong time

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MercutioLives](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MercutioLives/gifts).



His breath burned in his chest as his feet pounded against the hard pavement. He could hear the shouts behind him getting closer.

It wasn’t him they were after - not really. He was incidental really; wrong place at the wrong time. That wouldn’t change the outcome though; their blood was up, and he was guilty by association and by blood. And after all, that was what this was all about really, wasn’t it? Blood for blood.

Damned their feud, and damn his brother for getting involved - and for getting him involved too.

He turned the corner, and all the breath went out of his body in a gasp of denial. It was a dead end.

He heard the footsteps slow then stop behind him. He drew a deep breath, then turned.

***

It hurt. Oh god, it hurt. He could barely think straight. He could feel the blood soaking through his shirt, spreading in a slick pool beneath him; welling up thick and hot between his fingers as they clenched at the gaping wound in his guts, trying desperately to hold himself together. Each breath was a sob. He tried to roll onto his side but the movement pulled terribly at the wound, weakness flooding over his body and turning his limbs to water as his vision whited out.

He didn’t scream. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he was proud of that.

He heard footsteps pounding towards him and he forced his eyes open.

“Oh god. _Val!_ ”

“Mercutio….” Was that his voice? That thin, weak thing?

Mercutio was on his knees, reaching for him. “Val, oh my god - I’m here Val, I’m here now - oh sweet Jesus -”

Mercutio was trying to lift him, and Valentine bit back a scream. “Don’t move me - oh Christ, Merc, it _hurts_ ….”

“Oh god, Val, hang on. Just hang in there.”

He must have blacked out for a moment; he was in Mercutio’s arms, and his brother was hugging him, rocking him gently and sobbing, Valentine’s blood soaking into his white shirt, dying it an alarming crimson as the blood soaked through the white cotton.

“Come on Val, wake up. You need to wake up because I can’t do this without you,” Mercutio begged, the words almost indistinct, his voice thick with tears. “I need you, Val. You’ve always been the clear-headed one. Come on, Val, don’t do this to me!”

“Not going anywhere,” Valentine managed to gasp as he opened his eyes.

“Oh god. Val. Val. I almost lost you.”

“Not yet,” Valentine managed to gasp. “Merc… they were looking for you. They thought I was you.”

“Who?” asked Mercutio, startled.

“Capulets,” Valentine murmured.

“Just hang on, Val. We’re going to get you to a doctor. You’re going to be OK, just hang in there, you hear me?”

He felt so very tired and cold. He closed his eyes.

“Val? _Val!!_ ”


End file.
